God, I’m unconvincing.
My internal rant is soon overtaken by another voice from the back of my mind — small but persistent as it replays two words over and over in a deep, rumbling growl.
I’d notice. I’d notice. I’d notice.
My breaths are shallow, my face is wet — it takes me a minute to realize I’m crying on my kitchen floor. Eventually, Boo wanders over and hops up in my lap, his tiny furry head nestling into the crook of my arm.
I must look even more pathetic than I feel, if my demon-dog is taking pity on me.
***
“Can you sprain your vagina? Because I don’t think mine will ever function normally again, after that last position we did.”
Gemma’s loud exclamation draws glances from several people in the surrounding booths. I shoot her a look and contemplate kicking her beneath the table. Lila chuckles so hard cupcake crumbs shoot from her mouth. Shelby just alternates glaring at the three of us in turn, likely wishing she had better taste in friends.
We’re at Crumble, an adorable little cupcake shop Gemma dragged us to as soon as our Sunday morning yoga class was over.
We all need a sugar rush, after the trauma of exercising first thing in the morning. Especially Gemma, who’s so uncoordinated she makes me look like a yogi in comparison. She spent most of the hour-long session lying flat on her mat, moaning in pain after her downward dog pose went horribly wrong, resulting in a face plant, two sprained wrists, and a pulled muscle in her thigh so bad, we practically had to carry her here.
Lila, on the other hand, spent the session hissing questions at me between poses, wanting to know every detail about Nate and Cormack’s showdown last night.
I did my best to tune both of them out, mainly so I wouldn’t lose my precarious balance during tree pose.
All the while Shelby, bonafide fitness guru, led the class from a mat at the front of the studio and shot eye-daggers at us for daring to interrupt her zen-like atmosphere. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t kick us out after the first ten minutes. I’m even more surprised she let us drag her along for post-yoga cupcakes — Shelby is a twenty-seven year old Monsanto-hating vegan. She’ll probably have a heart attack if she ever sees the processed snack foods in my pantry.
“God, my ass is sore. I think it’s broken.” Gemma moans lightly, face contorting in pleasure as she chomps into a double-chocolate cupcake.
“You can’t break your ass.” Shelby snorts. “And if you’d just get into a routine or maybe come to my class more than once every six months, it wouldn’t hurt so bad every time.”
“It takes me six months to recover from one of your classes,” Gemma points out. “Otherwise, I’d totally be there.”
“Right.” Shelby rolls her eyes. “Sure you would.”
“Hey, you can’t be mad at me — Chrissy didn’t even show up.”
“Chrissy just had a baby,” Shelby points out. “She’s excused. For now.”
“Babies get you out of exercising? Maybe I should get pregnant,” Gemma murmurs thoughtlessly. When we all glance at her, she blushes bright red and her eyes go wide. “Kidding! Kidding. No babies. Nope. Not happening. Ever.”
“Oh yeah? How’s Chase feel about that?” I ask, amused.
“If it were up to him, I’d have been barefoot and pregnant the week we met.”
“Oh, woe is you!” Lila rolls her eyes. “If a man that gorgeous wanted to give me his babies, you would not hear me complaining.”
“Can we not talk about babies?” Shelby asks, grimacing. “Just thinking about the snot-nosed little rug-rats makes me nauseous. I’m really trying to hang onto my zen, here.”
“I don’t need babies. I just need some sex,” I mutter darkly. “At this rate, I’m going to die a virgin.”
They all glance at me.
“What?” I ask innocently. “It’s true.”